I have said before, my suspension of disbelief is incredible.
Stick me in a movie theater and I am IN it. Whatever movie IT happens to be, some more than others obviously. Makes readjusting to the world 90 minutes later a little weird, but it’s okay.
It’s actually a superpower. I love it.
It happens conversationally sometimes too. I was on a rollercoaster a month ago, it was taking a while to get going, my friend and I were chatting and I actually forgot I was on a rollercoaster, yep, that happened. Now he tries to distract me every time.
That might be less of a superpower and more early onset Alzheimer’s.
Oh look a plastic castle.
I really don’t want to be a goldfish.
My memories, no matter how shitty, are precious to me.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaand there I go…teeny tiny attention span.
Movies, we were at the movies.
3 movies jump to mind when I think the words “ugly cry”.
I have 4 best friends. 3 outta 4 are the only people on the planet that I would consider allowing in the room when I am watching THOSE movies. The 4th would mock me and ruin my catharsis, but she knows absolutely everything about me, they all do, but she was with me for some of the really gritty shit, and had best be keeping her whore mouth closed. I say that with love, and some fear, but mostly love.
There are things I will not do around a boy I like, even after we have been together awhile. Watch THOSE movies, or go to the bathroom with the door open EVER, fart (awake) sleeping? It’s beyond my control. Eating chicken wings used to be on the list, I am over it.
Holy fucking rants Batman.
No, Batman is not on the list.
The list is
- The Notebook (shocking, I know)
- Schindler’s List (those kids in the outhouse get me every damn time)
- The Green Mile
I have a long term love for Stephen King, mind, I have not read The Green Mile. I have a feeling it would kill me a lot a bit.
The scene with Melinda, I bawl. I bawl HARD. The Warden’s face slays me, my tear-ducts don’t stand a chance.
“I dreamed of you, we found each other in the dark”.
But that is not the one that is haunting me.
It’s John Coffey and those two little dead girls. Blonde hair streaked with blood, making them look like ginger ragdolls. He is holding them, cradling them, inconsolable, wailing.
This is how I feel right now.
Michael Clarke Duncan’s voice ringing in my ears “I TRIED TO TAKE IT BACK. I TRIED TO TAKE IT BACK BUT IT WAS TOO LATE.”
I quite literally said the words “if I sleep with you too fast, you will get bored and bail”
Of course he said “I’m not like that”.
He is exactly like that. Or appears to be, no idea really, he hasn’t messaged in ages. Ha.
I ain’t even mad at him, I’m mad at me.
I am mad at me because I fucking knew better. Pun most definitely intended. I gotta laugh at something or I will ugly cry.
Not mad enough for a time machine, I saw the guy twice ever. But it still hurt.
Redemption seems unlikely. I just need to crawl through 500 yards of shit and come out clean on the other side*.
John Coffey: I know you hurtin’ and worryin’, I can feel it on you, but you oughta quit on it now. Because I want it over and done. I do. I’m tired, boss. Tired of bein’ on the road, lonely as a sparrow in the rain. Tired of not ever having me a buddy to be with, or tell me where we’s coming from or going to, or why. Mostly I’m tired of people being ugly to each other. I’m tired of all the pain I feel and hear in the world every day. There’s too much of it.”
There is and I am.
I am learning, much faster now. These things I say, manifest. I could have stopped it, I could have taken it back. But it was too late.
I wish it had been someone a little bit less spectacular for me to prove that theory on. It was a risky experiment and it blew up.
‘No’ is a complete sentence.
I am rarely wrong, even when I want to be.
And life is a series of closing doors and opening windows.
(*I know that’s the wrong movie, I’m grown, I do what I want.)